Inexorable Chaos

“Hey, hey Jessica. Guess what I can see.”

“…”

“Jess, c’mon, take a guess. It's not hard.”

“…”

“You know you want to guess, I'm sure you’ll never figure it out,” Quasi taunts and Jessica rolls her eyes before looking at Quasi.

A bored Quasi.

She’s never seen a bored Quasi before. Usually he’s pretty calm, but apparently riding in a slow carriage for a long length of time can even drive him nuts.

She sighs. “Is it another church?”

“Maybe…”

She sighs again. “Is it another church of Odin?”

“Yes!” he yells, grabbing the attention of the other three in the carriage. But, a month of tedious travel has taught everyone how to weave around Quasi’s… eccentricities. Which just means that they can mostly ignore his ramblings.

“Church number seventy-three,” he declares proudly.

Jessica groans and shakes her head.

“Is it really that surprising?” she asks. “The Aesir are extremely pious and every kingdom is beholden to the theocracy.”

“I know that, but this is freaking absurd level of zealotry. I’ve seen over seventy churches, most of them in service to Odin, but the fact is that I saw so fucking many of them. They don't need that many places of worship, nor is it cost effective.”

She nods, understanding what he means. Her own experience working in a church has taught how difficult it can be to obtain funding. Having so many locations can only exacerbate those problems.

“If it bothers you so much,” Deflon chimes in, his eyes shifting up from the book in his hands, “you can just ask [Baroness] Juliana tonight.”

Quasi blinks. “Wait, tonight? We’re already there? I thought we needed two more weeks.”

Deflon grunts. “Most carriages aren’t pulled by undead horses.” He turns towards the window and points. “The city of Shul is just over that hill. It should be visible soon.”

“City of Shul, eh?” Quasi folds his arms. “Since Jess’s mom is a [Baroness], doesn't that mean she runs the city?”

“For the most part, she does,” Deflon says, “but her position is weak. Most consider Carpe Diem a dying house, as there’s no heir to take her place.”

“Because of the murders.”

“Yes… because of the murders,” Deflon whispers, his mood souring.

“Eloquently put,” Abernick comments, his eyes glued on a book. Across from him is Fiona, her head resting on Jessica's shoulder as she naps.

Quasi rolls his eyes at the remark. He looks at Jessica. “And you? How do you feel about finally meeting your mother?”

Jessica opens her mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. She feels… discombobulated. Should she be happy? Sad? Upset? It never truly occurred to her how she should feel. She does want to meet her mom, to know the person that gave birth to her. But… what then?

“I don’t know.”

Quasi nods. “Figured as much. You grew up without knowing your mother, so this first meeting will be interesting.”

He looks to the window, eyes gazing outside. A smile slowly forms on his face.

_____________________________

The city of Shul is a thriving city that, despite its prosperity, does not produce any major exports. Sure, the city has farmland, a nearby lake for fishing, and small-time manufacturers like [Smiths] and tailors, but those things alone wouldn't grant the area its well-being.

Nay, the city of Shul prospers by the merits of its great school, Scire Nefas Academy. Named from the same poem as its founder, Carpe Diem. It is a place that trains some of the best [Healers], [Curers], and [Herbalists]. Throughout the world, those with money and an inclination to learn travel to Shul to master the craft.

Thanks to the academy’s success, the city can hire and arm some of the highest level [Guards] in the entire kingdom. They are even wealthy enough to field not one, but three [City Defenders].

With such spending and focus on defense, the main gate to the city is defended heavily with fifty [Guards, three [Watch Captains] over level seventy, and a [City Defender]. Truly, such a force would make any [Assassin] turn tail and run. Even [Spies] think twice about approaching since all three [Watch Captains] have [Advanced Analyze] or an equivalent skill, while the [City Defender]’s skills are even greater.

Joe, the [City Defender], is on duty today. Every day, for ten hours, he watches the gates as the sun glances off his polished scalp. Though the glint often annoys gate-goers and his coworkers, there is little they can do. He has received a special dispensation to not wear a helmet, as otherwise he would have to shave his facial hair. His prodigious handlebar mustache would not fit otherwise.

This dispensation is, in fact, half of the reason he came to work at this city.

He is, to most that know him, a kindly old fart who cares about his people. Even now, while the other [Guards] work, he has dug up a fire pit near the gate and is currently cooking sausages with a smile.

To the untrained eye, it would seem like Joe isn’t doing his duties. They could hardly be blamed for thinking that. Sitting around and staring at people and carts as they enter into the city is neither glamorous nor engaging. He understands this, which is why he is cooking for his team to keep up morale.

Protecting the gates and vetting everybody is important, but he can't let the tedium make his men lax.

So, sausages finished cooking, he picks them up by the sticks and starts walking back to the gates, only to pause as every single [Guard] unsheathes their weapons and surrounds a carriage.

Frowning, Joe drops the food and hops towards his men, his mace and shield ready before he lands.

“What's happening?” he asks, eyes trained on the carriage, blood pumping.

“The horses are undead,” one of his [Watch Captains] states, his mace out and ready to strike at whatever threat may be inside.

Frowning, he glances at the horses and immediately concludes that they are indeed undead, which is technically bad… but… his [Sense Illegality] skill isn’t going off. Whoever or whatever is in that carriage does not seem to be a criminal.

“Stand down and move away from the carriage,” he orders his men and they immediately comply. He walks to the side of the carriage with the door and attempts to peer inside. Wards and enchantments block his view, which is a surprise. Only an [Enchanter] in their second tier class could produce something strong enough to stop him.

“I am [City Defender] Joe of Shul. I am here to inspect your carriage before you enter the city.” he orders.

After a few tenuous moments, he hears the carriage latch unhook and the door swings open.

A cane carried by a gloved hand is the first thing to enter the sunlight, followed by a top of a hat as the wearer ducked to exit the doorway. As he stands to his full height beneath the light, Joe can fully study the masked fellow and uses [Analyzing Eye] to discern…

Nothing. Even as the man steps onto the pavement in front of Joe, Joe’s skill passes through him like air.

Then he feels it: the masked man activates his own skill on Joe, which the [City Defender] doesn’t attempt to block. His class and level are already public knowledge, so there is little harm.

“Who are you?” Joe asks.

With a flourish and a bow, the masked man speaks.

“I am a man wearing a mask.”

Joe frowns at the answer. An answer, but not. His hands tighten around his mace as he mentally prepares to spout his skills. A masked man who refuses to divulge who he is, is most assuredly a criminal. Possibly an [Assassin], a high level one if he can spoof his skill.

He stares at the masked man, waiting for him to attack. He can feel the man's gaze on him, staring at him, the tension rising.

After a minute of silence and staring, Joe blinks… confused. The masked man is doing nothing but standing and staring.

After another two minutes, Joe feels like the situation has become rather awkward.

Two more minutes of silence passes and the tension completely disappears. His [Guards] are coughing, eyeing each other, looking very confused.

“What-ugh, are you waiting for?” he finally asks.

“For you,” the masked man answers.

Another minute of silence, the awkwardness rising further.

“What about me are you waiting for?” Joe asks.

“The inspection,” the man answers.

Joe grunts, getting a bit more confused now.

“What inspection?” he asks.

The masked man sighs and shakes his head. “Really? You call me out of my carriage, asking for an inspection, then you act clueless after minutes of silently undressing me with your eyes?”

The man taps his cane on the ground. “And now you even deny you were inspecting me?

“Joe, like, come on, man. How can you do this to me? I know you were ogling the sexy body of your future overlord, so just own up. It’s true I’m married and I don’t swing that way, but eh, whatever. I’ll never ridicule someone for having such refined taste.”

Joe just stares at the masked man as a mounting headache rises.

“I-”

The masked man quickly puts up his hand, interrupting him. “But really Joe, you’re a [City Defender] and on duty now. You can watch me, but not on your watch.”

The masked man waves at his very confused [Guards]. “Look at them. They follow you, expecting you to behave as befits your station. But you fail them. They expect professionalism, but all they see is their boss leching over another man, albeit one easy on the eyes.”

“I don-”

“Look Joe,” the masked man slowly walks forward, “I understand where you’re coming from. You have power, class, and sublime skills,” the masked man raises his hand and plants it on Joe’s shoulder, “but that still doesn't give you the right to molest me with your eyes, Joe. You need to control your urges- nay. You must overcome your urges. You must rise above your instincts and take hold of your carnal desires. For this world, for all of us, you must become better, Joe.”

The masked man lightly squeezes Joe's shoulder. “Can you do that for me Joe? Please?”

Joe, now completely baffled, looks around, receiving very confused looks from his [Guards]. He’s very thoroughly lost now. He looks to the masked man in front of him, seemingly expecting an answer.

“Y-yes?” he blurts out

The masked man nods.

“Thank you, Joe. Truly, it takes enormous courage and sacrifice to strive for a better future. Most men cannot even comprehend how difficult a decision you have just made, but I know Joe. It was not easy for you, not at all. But I believe in you, and I will so long as you continue to live your life.”

He squeezes again.

“Just know that you do not have to take this path alone. I’ll be with you, supporting you through thick and thin. Together, we will be abl-”

“BONE!” a woman yells from outside the carriage, startling Joe.

“What?” the masked man turns to look at the carriage.

“Stop wasting time!” she admonishes her irritating companion, “I don't want to stay at the gates all night.”

“I'm not wasting time,” he counters, “I’m helping a man deal with his repressed phallic fixations.”

“Just give him your stupid card and leave the poor man alone.”

“His name is Joe!”

“I don't care what his damn name is, just show him your card and let's get out of here.”

The masked man shakes his head, moves his hand from Joe’s shoulder and into his robe. He then pulls out a glossy Adamantine Mercenary card.

__________________________________________

Normally, Franky finds leadership simple and easy. Whether leading a team in sports or leading a group project in school, he’d always excelled. He even mentioned it to Quasi, who scoffed and said, “You have charisma seeping out of your ass. Of course you’re going to find leadership easy when everybody at school wants to suck your dick,” in his usual crass way before adding, “charisma only works when people know you. If all you have is a pretty face with pretty words, then anyone with backbone will always question your authority… like here, at Subway. When I tell those fuckers to add all the goddamn meats, I expect all the fucking meats! Where’s my fucking meatballs!?”

What was more memorable than the advice was how Quasi tried to pick a fight with no more than three different Subway employees, before throwing a wad of cash at them.

He had ignored the conversation itself up until this point, but now, standing inside his newly constructed guildhall, staring at a hundred members staring up at him, he can't help but feel dread. It doesn't help that Aodean is standing across the room from him, grinning and waiting for the speech to begin.

Why did he become guildmaster? Aodean should have taken the job. He’s already running Camelot, he knows all about administration and leading people. Look at that shit-eating grin! That airy confidence! He should be up here, giving the speech. Franky though…

Cold sweat runs down his back as doubts creep up on him. No, he’s not ready for this. His eyes flit between audience members, looking for an anchor. They pause on the Scorching Star, dance over to the Unbroken Bulwark, before resting a moment on the presence overshadowing both of them. The sapient undead tank, Gun Widow, stands behind the rest of the crowd, watching.

Franky’s eyes move on and find them, his team. His friends. Jess is smiling happily, completely confident in him. Sarena’s cold face is broken by a small smile. Turnock is once again making passes with the women around him. And Brock is saying something. No, he’s mouthing something to Franky.

“Get on with it!”

Snorting and shaking his head, Franky releases a deep breath and places his hands on the podium. His aura flares to life. “Welcome, one and all. I am Franky Sasco, the leader of the Adventurer’s Guild.” he announces, making sure he has the entirety of the room's attention.

“I am also a [Hero], for those of you that don’t know.”

He hears gasps from a couple dozen people, but it’s clear that most have done their research. Which, unfortunately means that many are here because of his class and the stories told about it. Slaying dragons, saving damsels, protecting those that cannot defend themselves. The stories are nice, but also untrue. A [Hero] is just another person with a class, albeit a cheating one.

“Now, I could drone on and on about the guild and our vision, but all of that is already in the handbook. We’ll be skipping that and getting to the important bit. We’re all going on a grand quest to locate the legendary city of Atlantis!”

He hears gasps from most of those present. Their eyes bulge at the seams as they begin to whisper with one-another. Franky can’t help but grin as he watches the group get excited. Atlantis, like the mythological city of earth, is supposedly a massive metropolis that vanished a very long time ago.

Except the Orbis version didn’t submerge under water, but actually underground. According to the dusty tomes in Silva’s study, a fissure had formed underneath the city and swallowed it in its entirety before closing back up. The reason for the phenomenon is unclear, but what is clear is that an elven [Geomancer] uncovered the exact whereabouts of the city several thousand years ago, and recorded the entrance to the underground cavern.

The best part is that the city is directly north of Camelot, a mere three days travel by boat, yet untouched for tens of thousands of years.

He finds Aodean at the back of the crowd. The Australian gives him two thumbs up alongside a giddy smile.

Franky suppresses a chuckle as he shifts his gaze back on the crowd.

“Now,” he begins. The crowd goes silent. “Before we go any further…” He claps. Enchantments built into the building rumble, the roof shifts, folding up to allow the sun's warmth to shine down upon everyone. Then the floor rumbles, and rises up. Five meters, ten meters, they ascend, eventually rising to the roof of the Guild building.

Still smiling, he turns around and gestures to the tiny glade grown on the roof. In the center of the trees lies a crackling bonfire, surrounded by tables, chairs, grills, and a selection of containers filled with marinated meats ready for cooking and an assortment of magically chilled kegs.

“Let’s have a barbecue!”